


God-Felling Star

by ungulateman



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ungulateman/pseuds/ungulateman
Summary: "Nemesis. She first called me that, you know. A title born of hatred, of fear." Golden eyes. "It means 'hubris against the gods'." A fierce smile. "It is not hubris if you win."A Three Houses AU.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 35





	God-Felling Star

Byleth knew he had been an unusual child. Quiet and withdrawn, either unable or unwilling to express emotion, and with a natural aptitude for warfare matched only by his father. Then came the crimson arrows, and his dreams.

The crimson arrows were a mystery. People tended to follow them, but it was no sure thing. Walking into a crowd and seeing the delicate interplay of scores of scarlet lines as they wove and unraveled was beautiful, but distressing at the same time. What was most unnerving was that no crimson arrows followed Byleth at all. Despite that, he could reach out and feel for them, intangible but with a weight all their own. The weight of destiny, maybe.

The dreams, on the other hand, were always the same. The war, and the man. No matter how those lines were drawn, he would fall, and she would live. After their violent death at the hands of the mysterious woman, the giant, scarred warrior would ceaselessly rage and scream at the endless void surrounding them both. Perhaps it was a metaphor for death, for the folly of war? Byleth did not care for such things. The interpretation of dreams was not a useful talent for a mercenary.

Tonight, however, the man's gaze found him in that blankness. Their golden eyes narrowed. “You,” they growled, their heavily scarred face twisting in rage. “Who are you?”

Byleth stood in silence. This figment of his imagination could not hurt him. The crimson arrows of fate passed through them as though they were not there. He knew nothing of them, and they could learn nothing of him.

Then the crimson arrows shifted, bent by the mysterious figure's will. Byleth gasped as the projectiles flew towards and then through him, just as intangible as they were to the warrior a moment before. They grinned savagely.

“Byleth Eisner, son of Jeralt the Blade Breaker, mercenary, and bearer of my Immortal Foresight. The Ashen Demon. A title! Good. I've had some of those.” They shifted, suddenly standing even taller, the crimson arrows falling quiet. “But you, mortal, can call me Nemesis.”

0o0o0

Breakfast was always a quiet affair for the Eisners. Jeralt focused on his food, and Byleth wasn't one for conversation. For good reason, too; you never knew when you'd get a good opportunity to sit down and eat as a mercenary, so you took your chances when you got them.

This morning in Remire village was no different. A messenger arrived just as Jeralt went for another mouthful of oatmeal. “Jeralt, sir! A trio at the rear gates – young nobles, by the looks of it. We let them in, since they said bandits were in pursuit.”

Jeralt grumbled as he got to his feet, throwing his spoon back into the bowl. He glanced at Byleth, who seemed distracted. “Come on, kid. I'm going to go round up the outriders. Go check on our unexpected guests and see what they need.”

Byleth nodded, mentally dismissing the ethereal red lines that surrounded them both. Stopping only to strap on his sword, he marched out to the back of the village, where the three visitors awaited him. He spotted them as he rounded a corner – a woman in red, a man in blue, and another in yellow.

The crimson arrows of fate rained down in a volley upon all three of them, and the world fell out from underneath his feet for a moment.

0o0o0

Back in the endless void, Nemesis loomed over him. “What do you think you're doing, mortal? Do you have no grasp on my power at all?” He scowled, trailing his hands through the flow of bloody lines that surrounded them, watching them part like water between his fingers. “You must master this, if only to spare me the embarrassment of watching someone with the gift of Immortal Foresight fall to lowly bandits.”

Byleth coughed as he stood back up. “How?” he asked, face and tone blank.

Nemesis plucked a single red line out for him to examine. “Follow the paths people will take. Put obstacles in the right place to guide them where you want them to go. Bring them together around the strongest you can find. This applies just as much off the battlefield as it does on it.” He grimaced. “There are a scant few who do not follow crimson arrows. Do not, under any circumstances, become at odds with them.”

“Why?”

He gestured to himself, then at the endless void surrounding them. “Personal experience. Now go; those three are interconnected as much as they are because they wield incredible power. Any or all of them would make excellent allies.”

0o0o0

Byleth returned to the normal world with a stumble. To his surprise, only that moment had passed, and he arrested his fall neatly, coming to a poised crouch in front of the trio. The lines were still impenetrably complex, but they were no longer opaque to the point of obstruction. Their reactions gave him a place to start: the woman in red was curious, the man in blue surprised, and the man in yellow amused. He rose, then gave a light bow. “Byleth Eisner, son of Jeralt the Blade Breaker.”

The man in yellow chuckled. “The Ashen Demon! I hope you can save us from these bandits as well as you can save face! I'm Claude.” He smiled as he pushed a hand through his curly brown locks, but it didn't reach his emerald eyes. A bow sat on his back, positioned in such a manner that suggested he carried it often.

The man in blue was scandalised, lance creaking in his tight grip. “Claude, this is no time for your buffoonery! I apologise for my friend, sir Eisner. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.” He bowed, blonde hair drooping limply over piercing blue eyes. He'd worked up quite a sweat compared to Claude.

The woman in red simply nodded in greeting, axe loose in her right hand. “And I am Edelgard von Hresvelg. We're students of the Officer's Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery.” She tucked an errant strand of her white hair over her shoulder and regarded him with equally pale violet eyes. “We're being pursued by bandits,” (“After our lives as well as our gold!” Claude added) “and we'd appreciate your assistance. We can fight, but not all of them, not in our state.”

Byleth nodded as he stepped forward towards the rear gates, pretending to catch a noise on the wind while watching the crimson arrows wind their way through the air. “My father's outriders are approaching. We just need to hold the village.”

He gestured to Claude. “We're on low ground. Follow me to a better vantage point.” Turning to Edelgard and Dimitri, he added “You two defend the slope. She's left-handed, so fight side by side rather than back to back when you can.” With that, he waved Claude on as he rushed out of Remire village and up the hill to the watchtower.

Claude shrugged and jogged off after him. Dimitri turned and raised a sweaty eyebrow at Edelgard as they followed at a slower pace. “You've been fighting with your weak hand all this time?”

Edelgard was unusually embarrassed by the revelation. “I was taught Imperial armor line tactics. Each member must move, attack and defend from the same angle at the same time. There is no room for heterodoxy.” Her expression turned contemplative, then determined, and she transferred her weapon to her preferred side. “There must be others like me. Those born different, but equally capable. When I am emperor, I'll form a battalion of them. A sinister legion!”

“I don't doubt they would be formidable.” Dimitri paused, before he snorted. “A _sinister legion?_ Perhaps Hubert can command them,” he commented lightly, drawing a short bark of laughter from her.

0o0o0

Byleth pulled his sword from the corpse of the first bandit he encountered, noting the arrow in its centre of mass. Intertwined around it was one of the red lines of his 'Immortal Foresight', but the path it took compared to the others didn't make any sense-

Until another bandit broke through the tree line, slapping his sword out of his hand with the broad side of their axe. Turning in an instant, Byleth plucked the arrow from the corpse with his other hand and brought it around, following the curve of that particular red line-

Planting it directly in his foe's jugular, causing them to drop their axe and clutch their throat in pain and panic. Shaking his jarred hand, he retrieved his blade and put his foe out of their misery.

The crimson arrows were always intended for battle, Byleth realised. The many possibilities of human behaviour were shaped by instinct and adrenaline in war, and thus became predictable. The path a person takes on the battlefield is much clearer than the path they take in life.

Wiping his sword free of gore, he observed the flow of fate around him. Thin trails lead in many directions, but he began to pick up general ideas of where they lead. To retreat would leave Claude exposed, and almost certainly lead to his death. To hold his current position would let the remaining bandits encircle Edelgard and Dimitri. But if he moved forward and drew out their leader and his flunkies, his father and the outriders could crush them as they crossed the low ground.

Steeling himself, Byleth raised his blade and charged.

0o0o0

Dimitri had miscalculated. He'd ran a man through with his lance, but for all his prodigious strength, he couldn't pull it out in time to defend himself from his next attacker. As the axe came down, another of similar make span through the air, cleaved into the bandit's forearm and sent them crashing into the dirt.

He turned to see Edelgard, her own axe buried deep in another thief's chest, having grabbed her foe's weapon and flung it as a last resort. She smiled, but quickly yelled “Focus!”, and he turned to see his assailant was getting back up. That was when one of Claude's arrows found its mark in their skull, finishing them off. A distant shout of elation brought a brief smile to his face. He'd been watching over them, then.

Edelgard, meanwhile, was not getting her axe out of her attacker's corpse any time soon. She sighed and drew her dagger – not much more than a glorified letter opener, but she knew how to use it, and anything was better than her bare hands. She walked forward, towards the edge of the treeline.

There, in the gentle depression below the watchtower, Byleth faced off against the bandits' leader. His cronies formed a loose circle, but something resembling honour maintained the illusion of a duel. Edelgard was immediately impressed by his economy of motion. Every action was made with purpose, every decision with clear intent. He hadn't landed a telling hit, but his opponent was outright frustrated at not even coming close.

“Nobody messes with the great Kostas like this!” the boss spat, gesturing to his goons. They closed in, and Byleth moved to avoid being surrounded even before they got to him. Then one of them spotted her, shouting, and Kostas raised his axe to charge. She brought up her dagger, hoping to somehow find a perfect angle-

Another of Claude's shots drilled into his shoulder, and the bandit leader swore and dropped his axe from nerveless fingers as he turned to run. Byleth, who had been so cold until this moment, gave the tiniest smile she'd ever seen.

Then the cavalry arrived, charging in down the outside slope. Jeralt and his outriders began to hit and run against the remaining brigands, and in moments their morale collapsed and the survivors fled for their lives. Jeralt signalled his troops to fall in, and the last Edelgard saw of Kostas was him snapping the shaft of the arrow off as he disappeared back into the dense forest.

0o0o0

Jeralt exhaled in relief. “Nice work out there, kid, but you damn near gave me a heart attack taking on their boss by yourself like that.”

Byleth looked down. “I understand my limits.” Nemesis' advice might have been simple, but his insight into the purpose and form of the crimson arrows had a significant impact. He'd known how Kostas would strike, where Claude's reach extended, what the bandit would do when he saw Edelgard, and when his father's cavalry would arrive. Put together, there was no way he could have failed.

A commotion in the distance drew their attention. A group of heavily armoured knights advanced down the valley towards them, bearing insignia and carrying flags Byleth had never seen before. Jeralt groaned. “Those nobles – they're from the Officer's Academy, aren't they?” he asked.

Byleth nodded. “Yes. They said that. They also mentioned Garreg Mach Monastery. I am not familiar with it.”

Jeralt groaned again, louder this time. “Then these must be the Knights of Seiros, looking for their lost students. I knew Remire was too close. I've been avoiding this for twenty years, kid, but fate's caught up to me, and dragged you along with it. Gather up our clients, bring them here and come meet me in a minute, will you?” Rolling his shoulders, the Blade Breaker stepped forward.

Byleth turned and found the trio already waiting for him. Convenient.

Dimitri raised a hand to his chin in thought. “Your father has a poor history with the Church? I do hope this won't cause any trouble.”

Claude put both of his hands on the back of his head and leaned back. “After that performance, I can't see why it would. He saved us!” He looked at him. “Though really, you weren't too shabby yourself, Blade Breaker junior.”

Dimitri frowned. “A modicum of respect would be warranted.”

“What? It's a compliment. Certainly it sounds less stupid than 'the Ashen Demon'.”

Edelgard glared at her carefree companion. “Claude, if you persist on treating our ally like this is some sort of game-”

“Well, excuse me, your imperial importantness-”

“Enough!” Dimitri snapped, short temper clear in his tone. He faced Byleth once more and bowed. “On the behalf of the holy kingdom of Faerghus, the Church of Seiros, and the Officer's Academy, I thank you, Byleth Eisner.”

Edelgard curtsied, though the effect was reduced somewhat by the blood, sweat and dirt of battle. “You have earned the favor of the Adrestian empire this day as well.”

Claude huffed, but shot off a lazy salute. “And the Leicester alliance, too.”

Byleth bore witness to all this in neutral silence, trying to draw upon the red strings that tied them together. But without bloodshed, the focus was lost, and nothing was clear.

He nodded slowly. “The Knights of Seiros are here. I am not familiar with them. You should go.” He walked away, leaving the trio speechless at the silent dismissal of the three heirs to Fodlan.

0o0o0

“He doesn't know?” Edelgard von Hresvelg, first in line to the throne of the Adrestian empire, queried.

“He doesn't know,” Claude von Riegan, heir to the leading dukedom of the Leicester alliance, whispered.

“He doesn't know,” Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the holy kingdom of Faerghus, concurred.

“Who doesn't know?” Alois, captain of the Knights of Seiros, chimed in. The three jumped in shock to find their armored combat instructor, the least stealthy man in all of Fodlan, had somehow managed to sneak up on them. He gave a jovial smile. “Because I don't know much of anything at all! Haha!”

Dimitri let out the breath he'd been holding. “Professor. We were just discussing the man who aided us in our time of need. Byleth Eisner, son of Jeralt Eisner.”

Alois nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, I've been catching up with Jeralt – I haven't seen him in twenty years, not since that fire where he disappeared. We all thought he was dead! And not only is he alive, but with a son, too!”

Edelgard raised a hand. “You knew Jeralt, sir Alois?”

“Knew him? I served under him when he was Captain! Oh, I think the only person who missed him more than me was Lady Rhea herself! He was always her favourite, you know!”

Claude frowned. “So why disappear for twenty years and hide both himself and his son from the Church all this time? Something doesn't add up.”

Alois' smile faltered a little. “Well, from what I recall, Jeralt's wife passed away not long before the fire – died in childbirth, you see, and the baby was stillborn to boot. With a tragedy like that, I always thought Jeralt lost faith in the Goddess, if a devout man like him could suffer so much. I...sometimes I thought he wanted to die, and he just let the fires take him.”

His brow furrowed in thought. “Given that's not the case...well, the Knights are a lifelong calling. I doubt Lady Rhea would have accepted his resignation, so he fled when he could.”

Claude shrugged. “I guess that does add up, then. There's probably more to it – must have remarried and had a son - but it's not really our business, is it?”

“Indeed,” Alois agreed. “But speaking of his son, what doesn't Byleth know?”

“Who we are,” Dimitri stated, as Claude simultaneously said “much about Fodlan at all” and Edelgard “anything about the Church of Seiros”. They shot each other dirty looks, then chuckled when they realised they were all correct.

Alois responded with a hollow 'huh'. “The church, I can understand. Jeralt's been avoiding us. Not knowing you three specifically, perhaps, though if he was in the area...what did you mean, Claude?”

“Just the way he talks about things,” Claude clarified. “He's a terror on the battlefield, and frighteningly observant – he figured out Edelgard was left-handed in moments when we hadn't figured that out at all! - but social cues or abstract associations? If Edelgard hadn't told him straight up, I doubt he would have recognised us as students at all, even with the uniform.”

“Well, he'll have an opportunity to learn all about the Officer's Academy, now!” Alois responded passionately. “I managed to convince Jeralt to return with us to Garreg Mach, to assist the Knights of Seiros, and his son is welcome to join him! Perhaps he'll squire with us, or even join the academy!”

Dimitri smiled. “That sounds wonderful. I'm sure Lady Rhea will be glad to see him again, and equally sure that Byleth will make an excellent student.”

Edelgard looked pensive. “We can only hope she is. But I concur; Byleth would be a credit to the Black Eagles.”

Claude scowled. “The Black Eagles? Come on, he's Golden Deer, all the way.” A brief pause. “Dimitri. Not gonna convince us that he'll join the Blue Lions?”

“I don't see how which class he joins will affect him being an excellent student. After all, the Blue Lions already consists entirely of excellent students, which is more than I can say for the Golden Deer-”

“Hey!”

“-Or the Black Eagles-”

“Excuse me!?”

“-So it will not affect the overall placements of our houses.”

“Oh, you're on, pretty boy. You're with me, right Edie?”

“As long as you never call me Edie ever again, yes.”

“That is a price I am willing to pay.”

0o0o0

Another moment in the void.

“Seiros,” Nemesis tasted the word on his tongue. “That's her. The woman who killed me.”

“You're sure?” Byleth wondered. How did that violent, angry woman from the dream have a church named after her? Religion was another topic beyond his purview.

“Mmm. I was Nemesis. She was Seiros. Immune to Immortal Foresight. Don't know why. Killed me. Don't know why.” He shot Byleth a look. “The trouble with foresight is that you can't see the past. Certainly can't change it.” He frowned. “Changing the past...that's familiar, but-” he pounded his fist into his palm - “ _I don't know why_.”

Byleth tilted his head. Time was meaningless in this place, but Nemesis clearly had nothing more to offer. “My father and I are leaving soon.”

“Go ahead, mortal. Just watch yourself with this church. They worship a killer, after all.”

Byleth decided to gloss over Nemesis' own actions within the dream. “Duly noted.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm uploading this so I don't compulsively delete it when I feel it's not good enough tomorrow. I'm liable to rewrite it anyway because I want to work on my prose. Hope someone enjoys, at any rate!


End file.
